


Daddy

by ceywoozle



Series: One Word Bottomjohn Prompts [4]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Anal Plug, Daddy Kink, M/M, PWP, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-11
Updated: 2015-02-11
Packaged: 2018-03-11 15:57:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3331184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ceywoozle/pseuds/ceywoozle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>part of the one word bottomjohn prompt series.</p><p>sometimes, john needs to be punished.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Daddy

“it’s your fault, you know.”

sherlock’s voice, deep and rough. john can feel it vibrating through his stomach, the press of sherlock’s thighs making it difficult to breathe.

_smack._

“You know this is all your own fault.”

John doesn’t say anything. His face is pressed into the seat of the couch, the smell and taste of cushions stale and dry in his mouth, the material wet where the spit is leaking out.

_Smack._

“Oh, John.”

_Smack._

“The things you make me do.”

John tries to breathe but it’s hard. his lungs are compressed against the jut of Sherlock’s thighs against his belly and he is close to the edge of something like panic. He’s so _exposed,_ his arse in the air, his ankles restrained by his own pants and trousers, stopped there and trapped by the shoes still tied to his feet. His shirt is rucked up, in folds and creases around his chest, making it worse.

_Smack._

It’s an effort not to cry out that time and John can’t help the whimper that comes out. Muffled by the couch he thinks perhaps Sherlock might not have heard.

Foolish. Of course he heard. 

John feels it when Sherlock tenses and stops, can almost hear the predatory cock of that dark head as it tries to pick up on noises it doesn’t quite believe.

“John?” Sherlock’s voice, low and rough and oh so dangerous. “Was that a sound?”

John says nothing. doesn’t know if his silence makes it better or worse. But he says nothing and waits, waits for that tension to drain out, for Sherlock to move. He’s so tense himself that he misses it entirely. doesn’t feel it until it’s too late and the cry is ripped from him, entirely involuntary, loud and hoarse and pained, and he’s left panting, in agony and hope, his empty aching hole finally filled, the too-large plug, the one Sherlock said he wouldn’t have to wear for another week yet, already half settled before John even knows what’s happening, before he can find his breath, his words, and even then all he can do is beg.

“What’s that?” Sherlock asks, the silicone slow and slick, but insistent and seemingly without end and John writhes and pants and whines. “What did you say to me?”

And John, with a sinking, soaring cry, knows he’s lost.

“Daddy,” he says, and can almost taste the satisfaction in the air as the last of the plug breaches him and stops, sitting flush against his hole. “Daddy. Please.”


End file.
